


Made Your Favorite (A Wincest Thanksgiving)

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: Holidays with the Wincesters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Complete, Fisting, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parent/Child Incest, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sam as Dessert, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Thanksgiving, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Thanksgiving. Sam in unimpressed. John is angry. Dean has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made Your Favorite (A Wincest Thanksgiving)

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Contains incest between siblings and their father. If it isn't your cup of tea, don't read. Simple as that. Underage warning. Though not specified in the fic, I picture Sam between 12 and 14, but feel free to make them however old you want them. Despite the way it starts, this is NOT non-con. Though underage, this is totally consensual. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, so expect a few mistakes. This is my first fic so tips and comments are greatly appreciated. I was inspired by the holidays and, well, I ended up here. Shameless porn, with a little bit of plot thrown in for fun. Enjoy ;)

John sat back in his seat and rest his hand on his just-full-enough stomach. Holidays were never really a priority in the Winchester household, not that there was much of a household to begin with. For one, they lacked the house aspect. John made due with the Impala and his boys. They were a small, broken family, true, but they were family nonetheless and no one loved Dean and Sam like John did. He knew that his boys loved him also, even Sam who was always hankering for a fight. It seemed as if the both of them were at odds day and night. If they were in the same room together, they were fighting. If it wasn’t for Dean’s constant interference, they would have probably torn each other’s throats out by now.

Like tonight, for example.

Sam just couldn’t be content with their little Thanksgiving Day dinner. Sure, it wasn’t a twenty pound turkey with all the trimmings, but it was the best John could have done with what little money and time he had. The Hunt up in Seattle had taken much longer than he’d thought, but he was adamant about finishing up early enough to do something special for the boys. Even if there had been enough time, John wouldn’t have been able to produce a _real_ Thanksgiving feast. His cooking skills were limited almost primarily around a grill so, in place of a turkey, John grilled up a few steaks and wrapped up some seasoned corn. Dean made some type of microwave macaroni thing that John was impressed by, even if he couldn’t name a single ingredient other than the pasta.

Sam was unimpressed.

John was angry.

Dean had a plan.

The silence around the table was palpable, but John enjoyed his food. Even with his constant complaining, John knew that Sam liked it as well. Dean would have eaten cardboard and said it tasted alright as long as it made John happy.

“Help clean up, boys,” John said when they’d all finished.

“No, Dad,” Dean said standing up quickly and plucking John’s plate from his hand. “Sam and I will take care of it. Won’t we, Sammy?”

Sam scowled but he didn’t argue like he would have had it been John. Instead, he stood and helped Dean clear off the table. In minutes, their dishes and what few sides and condiments there were had been cleared away, leaving an empty table.

Soon, John sat alone in the dining room. It had been a while since they’d stayed in a place this big with a dining room separate from the immense kitchen. John knew the boys liked having the room. They might even stay through the year if he could hold off on searching for a new Hunt until then. The boys would like staying in one place for the holidays.

Dean poked his head back into the dining room. “Don’t leave yet,” he said. “I have dessert for you. Just give me a minute.”

Before John could ask what he’d made, let alone where he’d found anything even remotely resembling dessert in the house, Dean was gone and John was alone again. He closed his eyes and rested his head back, content just to sit and relax.

It was more than a few minutes later when he heard the kitchen door swing open again. John opened his eyes and froze at the sight of Dean’s dessert. The smirk on his eldest son’s face was lost on his father. At that moment, John only had eyes for Sam.

Dean was creative, John would give him that. He’d taken things from all over the house to make their dessert. Dean pushed the rolling tool tray they’d found in the garage right up to the table where John sat.

Sam was kneeling, bound and gagged, on top of it, squirming but unable to move more than an inch in any direction. His wrists and ankles were tied tightly around the tray, holding him in place so that he was forced to rest on his knees and forearms, ass sticking straight up in the air, purple rubber toy jutting out from it. His gag consisted of a rolled up dishrag and one of John’s leather belts buckled tight behind his head.

“Made your favorite,” Dean said. This time, John caught his son’s smirk and easily returned it. Sam let out a muffled whine and Dean’s hand flashed out, smacking loudly against Sam’s ass. “You need to learn to be good for Dad, Sammy,” he scolded his brother. Another firm slap sounded when Dean struck the opposite cheek.

John rested his hand between Sam’s shoulder blades and the younger boy stilled his squirming. He ran his fingers over the curve of his son’s spine, loving the gooseflesh that rose and the slight tremble that started in his limbs. He could feel himself getting harder at the smoothness of Sam’s skin and the obvious reaction his hands got.

Sam’s cock was hard and leaking, precome gathering in a small puddle beneath him. John swiped a finger through it and brought it to his mouth, letting his tongue get used to the saltiness that he’d developed a slight taste for over the years.

Dean came from behind John and removed his clothes piece by piece, saving his jeans and underwear for last. When his aching cock was finally freed from its confines, John breathed a sigh of relief. The cool air didn’t help bring his erection down, but it made it harder for him to gain the friction he needed, not that he was even thinking of touching his own cock when he had his two boys there. Dean would be furious and John wouldn’t be able to enjoy his dessert to the extent that it should be enjoyed. Dean had obviously taken his time in preparing it.

John ran both hands over Sam’s back again, bringing them down to cup his ass and play with the large purple toy. John could see the glisten of the lube that Dean had applied to the phallus. Sam’s hole stretched prettily to accommodate it and it made John’s top ten list of best things he could imagine.

Wanting to take his time, but not sure he had the willpower to keep up the slow tease he had going, John gripped the toy and pulled it out slowly until there was barely a half inch of it inside Sam’s hole. Holding it more securely, John thrust it inside quickly causing Sam to let loose a loud whimper, his back arching when it hit his prostate. He didn’t have any time to recover from the sensation because John’s hands were working rapidly, thrusting the toy in and out of his son, hitting that sweet spot every time until Sam was a writhing mess under him.

Tears were streaming down Sam’s face by the time John removed the toy completely, both disappointed at the loss and relieved at the small break he was given. He was only a few thrusts away from coming untouched without either his father’s or Dean’s permission. He was sure he wouldn’t have been able to last if John had continued the way he had been.

The break was short lived, however, because John was right back on him.

“Don’t even think about coming,” John said to Sam as he parted the boys cheeks and blew on the small pucker of his hole, angry and red at the intrusion of the phallus. It was wet and hot from the lube and earlier use.

“Couldn’t if he wanted to,” Dean said.

Both Sam and John were confused at that statement for a moment before realization dawned on them. John hadn’t been paying much attention to Sam’s cock at all since he’d been wheeled in, preferring to toy with his prettily presented ass instead. Sam had noticed when the ring of leather had been put around the base of his cock, but he hadn’t understood what it was there for until now.

It was a cock ring.

Dean and their father could push him all night and he wouldn’t be able to come no matter how far gone he was. Knowing them, it would be hours still before he was given some relief. They might even be fine with leaving him to suffer through it all night with the way he’d been acting over dinner.

Though he couldn’t see it, Sam could imagine the large smile playing on his father’s face at the thought that he didn’t have to be careful and hold back so Sam didn’t come before it was time. The cock ring ensured that.

Tears poured down Sam’s face when he felt his father’s tongue lapping at his now-empty hole. He was tied down and gagged, completely and utterly powerless at the hands of his father and, he knew eventually, his brother. Dean was content at the moment to stand aside and watch the festivities commence, stroking his shaft lightly, but there was no doubt in Sam’s mind that he would join in soon.

Then there would be two of them, licking, biting, teasing until Sam was too flustered to think about anything but his own inability to find release. He could stop it, he knew.

He was tied down and gagged, but his hands were still free even if his wrists weren’t. It was one of his rules. His hands had to be free at all times. Three snaps with his left, three snaps with his right, and they would release him. They would unbuckle the belt from behind his head and untie his wrists and ankles and remove that dreaded cock ring so he could finally find the blinding climax he needed even now, but there was one thing stopping him: John’s tongue lapping leisurely at his hole.

Snapping his fingers would stop everything and the feel of John’s tongue as it alternatively licked and fucked into him was too good to pass up, even if it meant staying in this _ohsogood_ state of ecstasytorture.

He writhed on the tray, unable to move even an inch away from the blissfully slick tongue at his hole _—Good, Sammy. Tastes so good, baby boy—_ but not really wanting to. It had only been minutes since Dean had wheeled him out, but already he was desperate for something to fill him up, pound roughly into his barely prepped hole and ruthlessly take him, fucking him, bringing him to his climax until his mind was wiped clean of all thought except the sensations of being roughly used and abused.

The soft tongue moving along the rim, torturing more than teasing, made him realize that wasn't going to happen.

He tried in vain to arch his back when his father's tongue swiped the sensitive underside of his hole.

The low moan that escaped Sam even through the gag seemed to be too much for Dean. He needed to touch. Leaving his own straining cock erect and neglected against his stomach, Dean reached out and pet Sam's hip, stroking him soothingly, making his younger brother fight even more furiously against the restraints. He needed the friction, a friction that Dean was as only happy to provide.

“I got you, Sammy,” Dean said. “Don’t worry.”

Dean let his hand trail down until he grasped the hot, aching flesh of his brother's cock, gripping it just the right side of painful. The slow, easy strokes and his father's wet tongue behind him brought Sam higher and higher, straining for release.

If he thought the sensations couldn't get any more disorienting, he was wrong. Too lost in the friction of his brother's hand, Sam didn’t notice his father coating his fingers in lube until a slick digit breached the outer ring of muscle, sinking inside him steadily until it was in down to the last knuckle, only stopping because  it couldn't go in any further.

Sam moaned at the painpleasure stretch of the finger inside of him. John curled it searchingly. He knew when he found his son's prostate by the muffled scream and straining muscles in his taut back. Just as soon as the sensation hit Sam, it was gone. John pulled his finger back and motioned his eldest away from the tray as well.

Sam cried, whimpering and thrashing, searching for some way to bring them back.

"Shhh," Dean soothed, whispering right at Sam’s ear. "We'll take care of you, baby boy."

Somehow, those words made the need increase, growing until he couldn't think of anything but the hands rubbing his back in soothing circles and his the short stint of relief that flooded him when his wrists were loosened—not freed from the tight ropes, but from the tray beneath him.

The ability to move freely was short lived.

John brought his wrists behind his back, tying them together and wrapping the rope expertly around his torso so that any hope of moving or removing them was gone.

Dean's hand fell from his back and his ankles were released as well. He was pulled roughly from the tray and his shoved against the tabletop. His waist dug into the edge almost painfully, dripping cock straining to curve up to his stomach but halted by the underside of the table. Sam moved his hips, rubbing his cockhead against the smooth wood, but a hard smack on his is ass stopped the movement.

"None of that," John ordered roughly in he is ear. His hand came down harshly onto his ass a dozen times, driving the lesson home. “Only we can touch that swollen cock of yours, Sammy. You know better.”

Sam stopped moving, knowing that the punishment for continuing would be the further delay of his release. Normally, he liked the hot sting of his of his father’s palms striking his bare ass, but it was getting to be too much already that he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

Dean tied Sam's ankles to the table legs, spreading him wide, exposing his reddened hole without the need to part his now-sensitive cheeks.

"Dean," his father called and he knew what John wanted.

Dean crawled under the table and gripped Sam’s cock tightly, brushing his thumb on the underside of the head and stroking it slowly. He trailed his fingertips along the throbbing vein on the side of his cock until they reached the base, his fingers moving dexterously to encircle it.

Without preamble, Dean’s lips parted and engulfed the swollen cock in one quick movement, Sam’s cries above him turned to loud screams that would have been heard through the walls had it not been for the gag.

Dean could feel the press of his brother’s cock at the back of his throat and he relaxed to take him all the way to the base. His nose pressed against Sam’s naval for a moment and his lips brushed the leather ring before Dean had to move to be able to breathe.

He hollowed out his cheeks and sucked gently as he pulled his lips back, using his tongue to caress the sensitive underside as he suckled. Sam whined above him, straining as hard as he could, but John held him in place, preventing him from either pulling away or bucking into the hot confines of Dean’s mouth.

Dean smirked before pushing the head of Sam’s cock further and further into his throat with each bob of his head. Tears soon came to Dean’s eyes as he suppressed his gag reflex, his own cock straining, wanting to come so badly that he thought he might even come untouched if Sam continued making those small whimpering noises.

“That’s enough, Dean.”

Dean released him with a loud pop. Spit trailed in a small line from his lips to the painfully swollen tip of his brother’s cock. He licked his puffy lips, breaking the connection.

“My turn,” John said, his voice rough.

Dean scrambled out from under the table to stand before his father. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him.

Apparently the fact that Dean’s mouth was no longer on him didn’t make a difference to Sam who was still moaning and whining, straining to push himself back on his father’s fingers, three of which were stretching his already sensitive hole. The glisten of the lube had Dean licking his lips again, this time in anticipation. He could already taste the musky Sam flavor over the cherry lube he’d bought on their last supply run.

John looked at him then, face flushed and eyes blown wide with a lust Dean was returning tenfold. When John removed his fingers and turned his body towards Dean, he could see his father’s cock up against his belly, smearing beads of precome across his stomach. It needed some attention, Dean knew, and he was happy to give it. First things first, though.

He strode towards John until he was pressed close into his chest. He stood on his tiptoes, reaching for a kiss. John angled his neck down and easily claimed his son’s mouth, moaning into the kiss when Dean’s tongue flicked out. He could taste Sam on his tongue, but the majority of it was pure Dean and it sent pangs of _wantneednow_ straight to his cock as he gasped and moaned, fucking into Dean’s mouth with his own tongue until it was too much and he had to pull back before he blew his load.

Dean whimpered, but smiled gratefully when John pushed him to his knees. He gripped the base of his father’s cock tightly to stave off the pending orgasm. His tongue flicked out, lapping precome straight from the slit. It was a taste he craved during times like these. It was proof of his father’s arousal and his need. It was the one time that Dean could take care of John instead of the other way around.

John groaned when Dean’s lips touched the head and suckled more of the salty fluid from his swollen cockhead, thankful that the tight grip he had on the base of his cock prevented him from reaching his peak. It was painful, but not overly so, keeping the sensations from becoming too overwhelming.

“Oh, God, Dean. Your _mouth._ Just –oh.” He tried to keep himself from bucking into his son’s mouth, but it was hard not to when it felt like… “Oh, God.”

Hearing Sam’s whimpering grow louder, John slicked up a fourth finger and shoved all of them without preamble into his son’s stretched hole. He’d already been prepped enough to take them. “Look at you, Sammy, taking my fingers so nicely,” John murmured more to himself than to Sam.

Dean pulled off of his father’s cock to look at the stretch of his brother’s hole around the fingers as they fucked in and out of him. Sam pushed back as much as he could on them, his back arching up and off of the table, loud moans and whimpers in time with the slow pace his father set.

John was right. Sam was so pretty like this, beautiful even. His entire body straining for release, lost in the sensations of his father’s hands on him— _in_ him—falling apart with every touch. It was number one on Dean’s list of best things, seeing his brother like this. Nothing, not even the feel of his brother’s mouth stretched wide over his own leaking cock, could top it.

“So, pretty,” Dean murmured his assent. “You like that, Sammy?”

Sam’s loud moan answered his question, but his father’s next words made Dean reconsider the order of his list.

“How well could he take my fist, do you think? Think he would fuck himself back on it? My cock probably won’t be enough for him. It’ll take my whole goddamn arm to fill him up. That what you want, Sammy?”

A loud, broken moan came from both of his boys and John smiled. With the hand not fucking into his youngest son’s stretched hole, he grabbed Dean’s short hair and brought it back to his own erect cock. “I didn’t say you could stop,” John said, shoving his cock to the hilt down Dean’s throat.

It was too much all at once and Dean coughed and spluttered. John pulled back a little and let go, but Dean was more than willing to continue. Like he had with Sam, he pushed down and down until he could feel his father against the back of his throat, then pushed further until his nose was being tickled by the curly hair on John’s naval.

John normally kept himself well groomed and tonight was no exception, but Dean loved the feel of the scruffy pubic hair so John always left some for him to feel, to nuzzle into as he took his father’s cock so deep into his throat he thought it might rest in his stomach.

“Dean. Dean, I need –oh –h. _Dean_.”

Then Dean released the base of John’s cock and swallowed around him.

John was lost. He grabbed Dean by the hair again and pulled him back just as the first wave of sensation hit him. His orgasm rolled through him, sending shivers of sensation down his spine. Hot spurts of come gushed into his son’s mouth. Dean tried to swallow, but it was too much with his father’s cock still partially filling him. A hot, white tendril dripped from the side of his mouth, making Dean frown at the waste even as he greedy swallowed the rest.

Coming down from his orgasm, John used his thumb to wipe the come from Dean’s chin. He removed his softening cock and replaced it with the come covered digit.

Dean showed it the same attention he did to every body part John placed in his mouth, suckling it until it was clean, then bobbing his head, taking it further and licking the underside as if it was his father’s cock, which twitched at the sight.

John would come again before the night was out, as would Dean and Sam, but for now, his cock rested limply against his thigh.

Able to think once again with his orgasm having staved off his lust for now, he focused his attention on the boys. John pulled the thumb from Dean’s mouth and removed the fingers from Sam’s ass, both of them groaning in disappointment at the loss.

“Lay on the table,” he ordered Dean, reaching down for a light kiss on his plush, swollen lips. They were truly made for cocksucking and John couldn’t imagine them put to a better use.

Dean looked at him inquiringly, but did as he asked. He used his arms to push himself onto the table, sliding himself up easily into a sitting position. He leaned back until his shoulder blades touched the cold table and his head was right next to Sam’s. The brothers both shared a watery grin, too aching with need to do more than that. Sam’s smile was hidden behind the gag, but Dean could see the crinkle in his eyes and knew that they were both just as eager for whatever their father had planned.

They were both surprised when that plan included removing Sam’s gag.

Sam gasped and pulled in a deep breath, coughing a little at the air tickling the back of his throat.

“Don’t speak,” John ordered and Sam snapped his mouth closed, pressing his lips tight in obedience. “I didn’t say close your mouth. Open.” John grabbed Sam’s chin and pressed roughly at his jaw.

Sam opened his mouth, curving his lips into a large ‘o.’

John smiled. This was the only aspect of their lives where Sam would obey him without hesitation. In every other way, they butted heads constantly. But in this, he submitted to John’s every whim.

John grabbed Dean’s feet and spun him around so that his legs could drape easily over Sam’s shoulders. Without prompting, Sam took Dean’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently at the sensitive head. Dean’s moan went straight to John’s cock which started to stir again despite his recent orgasm.

John applied more lube to his fingers, taking care to prep his whole hand in the process. He added more than strictly necessary, but in this case it was probably better for him to err on the side of caution. No need to cause Sam any unintentional pain. The stretch of his hole around his hand would be enough without the added burn of not using enough lube.

He stuffed four of his fingers into Sam’s already well prepped hole and fucked them in and out slowly, flexing them to stretch Sam out enough for him to push past the knuckles and add his thumb. Sam cried out when John hit his prostate, the gag no longer there to muffle the sound. John thanked whoever was listening that they were squatting in a house that was far enough away from their neighbors that no one would hear them.

Sam’s back arched, forcing him off of a whimpering Dean who was mumbling a chant of _soclosesoclosesammysoclose_ until Sam stopped. Dean lifted his hips, trying to push himself back into intoxicating crevasse of Sam’s mouth, but he only succeeded in smearing beads of precome and saliva against Sam’s chin. It wasn’t enough friction to satisfy Dean and he let out a groan, unable to form the words to tell Sam what he needed.

Luckily, John noticed Dean’s frustration and pushed Sam back down for him to take Dean again. Sam took the hint. He engulfed Dean’s cock and hummed in both appreciation and apology. He swallowed when the head of his cock reached the back of his throat and Dean bucked up into him. Sam didn’t choke, having prepared for the reaction. He chuckled around the stiff cock in his mouth sending waves of pleasure through Dean who bucked up into Sam’s mouth again.

Hands tied tightly against his back, Sam was powerless to stop him, not that he would have if he were able. Sam’s muscles tightened when he felt his father’s thumb stretch him alongside his other fingers, but he didn’t pull off of Dean this time. He moaned louder at the intrusion forcing Dean to arch his back in pleasure.

John moved his fingers in and out, hitting Sam’s too sensitive prostate with each slow stroke. He worked the fingers in, pushing them in deeper and deeper until the thickest of his knuckles was past the ring of muscle. Sam cried out loudly, the sound muffled by Dean’s cock in his mouth. Dean moaned in synch with his brother at the vibration of his throat against his cock.

John kept his hand still for a moment to let Sam get used to the intrusion. He had half his hand in Sam. Four fingers was as much as they’d ever gotten before this, and even that was rare for them. Sam had never been stretched so far and hell if it didn’t make John hard again. The velvety smooth cavity constricted around his hand, the lube, sweat, and saliva making him slick. The contracting muscles went straight to John’s cock, trying to force its way to stiffness.

It was only seconds later that Sam was attempting to press himself back on John. Only the lack of leverage to do so kept Sam from taking John down to his wrist.

_His wrist._

Now that the thought was implanted in John’s head, he couldn’t get rid of it. He wondered what it would be like to have his entire hand inside Sam, his fingers curling into a large fist that could pump in and out of him, no doubt pounding into his prostate with every thrust of his arm.

If he’d been on his way to being hard before, John’s cock was standing at attention now.

John let Sam attempt to ride him for a few more seconds before plunging his hand forward. He let Sam take him down to his wrist before stopping again. “So good, baby boy. Taking me so good.” John whispered encouragements into his ear as Sam fought to adjust to the intrusion.

Tears came to Sam’s eyes and both he and John knew that there was much more pain mixed in with his pleasure now, though he wasn’t complaining, not in the least. He’d never been this full in his entire life and the sensation was both too overwhelming to continue and so good that he didn’t want it to stop. Being filled from both ends like this was quickly making its way up to the top of Sam’s list.

John began stretching his hand out, little by little. He wiggled his fingers and was rewarded with a cry of pure pleasure from Sam, pain forgotten for the moment. Sam couldn’t think, couldn’t make his brain work enough to continue suckling Dean’s swollen cock.

Dean didn’t seem to have a problem with that though. He just grabbed Sam by his hair and fucked his mouth in earnest. His cock hit the back of Sam’s throat with every thrust. Saliva and precome mixed and dripped from Sam’s drooling mouth, slicking Dean’s way.

Tears poured down Sam’s face in torrents at the sensations inside of him. It was overwhelming and he wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not, but it didn’t matter. He’d lost the ability to think clearly enough to object to anything they were doing to him around the time he put Dean’s cock in his mouth.

Finger by finger, John curled his hand into a fist. He moved in and out experimentally, keeping a slow and steady pace, loving the feel of Sam all around him. With his fist buried deep in his youngest son and the cries of both of his boys in front of him, John couldn’t wait any longer.

He uncurled his fingers and pulled his hand slowly from Sam’s ass. He watched his hole shrink slightly, but it was still plenty big from the intrusion of such a large object. John pried Sam’s reddened cheeks apart and blew into his gaping hole, extracting a real scream from the youngest Winchester.

John released his son and prepped his own cock with his still slick hand. He knew that once he was inside Sam, he wouldn’t last very long. He wouldn’t need to though.

John lined his cockhead up with his son’s hole and pressed inside steadily until he was fully sheathed inside. His balls rested against his son’s and the confines of the smooth walls surrounding him made him gasp in pleasure. He was happy that Sam was so loose from his fist. If he’d been any tighter, John knew he would have come right then.

He set a brutal pace, pounding into him quickly. John knew that, after his fist, Sam could take his cock easily. While bigger than most men, it had nothing on his large hand and Sam was stretched out more than he ever had been before.

John grabbed Sam’s hips roughly and dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise to give himself the leverage to snap his hips forward, relentlessly fucking his son. Sam would walk around with the marks all week as a token. That is, if he could walk after this at all.

John knew he was close. Just a few more thrusts was all it would take for him to reach his climax. He released the grip he had on Sam hips and grabbed the base of his son’s cock. “Come for me,” he whispered in Sam’s ear just as he released the cock ring.

John latched back onto his hips and pounded even harder into his son until Sam screamed out his orgasm. Hot seed shot in spurts onto the tile floor, more than he even knew was inside of him. Sam collapsed out of sheer exhaustion, fucked out and completely sated, not even caring that his brother was still thrusting deeply into his mouth. He was vaguely aware of his father’s own climax and the fact that he could feel John’s come inside of him. His orgasm reawakened when one well aimed spurt struck his overly abused prostate dead on, but Sam was too overwhelmed with sensation to react.

Sam gasped when Dean pulled his mouth off of him.

Dean took his erect cock in one hand, the other still holding Sam’s hair, and stroked once, twice, until he threw his head back in ecstasy while large white strands of come landed all over Sam’s face.

Sam could feel it dripping from his eyelid onto his cheek and he absentmindedly snaked his tongue out to lap it up when it fell close to his mouth.

After that, Sam wasn’t aware of much. He closed his eyes and let his body relax in the serenity that always followed sex with his brother and his father. He knew when he’d been released  from his bindings because Dean was pulling his arms in front of him to help carry him to the bed.

 “Did so well, such a good boy for us,” John purred into his ear.

He felt the warm wetness of a tongue, too small to be his father’s, cleaning the rapidly-cooling come from his face and ass. “Mmmm, Sammy. Taste so good,” Dean crooned as his tongue cleaned Sam inside and out.

When he was done, large hands gripped Sam tightly and carried him to the bed, laying him down gently and covering him with the soft blanket.

John climbed into bed on Sam’s right, Dean crawled in on the left, and all three of them snuggled close, sated for now and wanting nothing more than to sleep off their activities.

“You really outdid yourself with dessert, Dean,” Sam heard John say.

“I knew it was your favorite,” Dean whispered. After a long yawn, he murmured, “even better than pie.”

“Mmmm,” John agreed.

Sam smiled against his brother’s chest. “Best Thanksgiving ever,” he mumbled. “Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Dean.”

“Anytime, Sammy,” Dean replied with a kiss to his brother’s forehead.

“Happy Thanksgiving, boys,” John said.

“Can’t wait ‘til Christmas…” Sam trailed off, not having the energy to continue that train of thought.

Exhausted, all three of them fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, resting comfortably in each others’ arms. 


End file.
